Last Days in Newfoundland

Our final day in this wonderful province was a Sunday, which meant that many things were closed. Since none of us was asking to go to a church service that morning, Kevin took us to the MUN Botanical Gardens for a nice walkabout. The day was cold, but clear (we actually had a few minutes of hail just in case we had forgotten that winter was coming).

And after that, we went to the restaurant Bacalau, supposed to be one of the best in the city, for their brunch. Unfortunately, a disappointment, mostly due to the service. But our last meal, and still a pretty good one.

The remainder of our tour was spent at Devon House, the Arts Council headquarters, art gallery, and of course store. We were met there by Kelly Jane Bruton, an artist who has done several works based on the fossils of Mistaken Point, south of the city. These fossils are some of the oldest ever found in the world. They are representations of the earliest life forms we know about. They were again quite wonderful.



And they represented the last things we did as a group. After pictures and good-byes, Darlene and I walked back to the hotel, got our bags and moved to the B & B. we were greeted warmly by Mary and Louie, as if we were old friends. It was really nice, and felt sincere.

And a piece of serendipity: we went looking for a place for a simple supper, and stopped into the a pub, the Yellowbelly, and ran into Dave Paddon from the ship, along with his wife Kim. They invited us to sit down, and we had quite a nice chat before we all went again on our separate ways. What a friendly place this is!

An early return to the bed and breakfast, some time on the deck overlooking the city, and then to bed.

Today is our return to reality. Sad to leave such a nice place; I have a feeling we'll return. The morning was taken up with a long talk with our hosts, followed by a brief walk downtown. One of our surprises today was the entry to the harbour of a Russian tall ship, not under sail but still magnificent.



The off to the airport, and the long trip home, by car, boat, plane, and train—as well as by foot. Needless to say, I collapsed into bed when I got home.

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Location:St. John's

Cupids and such

Today was our day out of town. We had a minibus booked to drive us the hour down to Cupids. This is a small town on Conception Bay, where the first English settlement in Canada was started 402 years ago. They have found and are uncovering the remains of the 17th Century buildings in the town, and have actually set up a national historic site for this.

After visiting the interpretation centre, we went down the street to the dig site, and met with the archeologist Bill Gilbert, who showed us what they had accomplished over the years he had been working there. It was fascinating and wonderful. We could have spent many hours with him, but had to go on.



Our next stop was in Brigus, where we went out to Kent Cottage, run by the Landfall Trust. This is a very pleasant cottage at the end of the road, on a height of land overlooking the ocean, isolated from almost everything. It is available for rent to anyone, with a preference for artists looking for solitude. The photo is looking back towards the town from the path into the cottage.


Then off for a Newfoundland lunch at the Mad Rocks cafe in Bay Roberts. After a meal of fish and brewis, fish cakes, baked beans, and toutons, we felt more like a sleep than doing other things. But we did stop in town to see the building which was the western terminus for the trans-Atlantic cable from the early 20th Century until the late 1970's (it's now a museum, and art gallery).

Home took a while, and sleep before supper was a necessity. Then supper out at Olivers (again good). Now to bed.

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Location:St. John's

St. John's art crawl.

We're now back in St. John's, where we have been involved in an Art Tour of the city and surrounding area. As I write this, on October 13, we are about to go out for dinner with our Group of Five, having spent the day out around Conception Bay, visiting areas there.

But let me back up. Getting to St. John's overnight was a rough go, but in fact we both slept pretty well. It is always hard to say good-bye, and this group had the experience of a death to bring us closer than we otherwise might have been. So there were a lot of hugs and fond farewells. The Pilot Boat pulled alongside to guide us through the Narrows into the harbour, and before you knew it we were on our way to the hotel.

Our fist afternoon with Kevin Major (our guide) was busy and very interesting.
He took us to Quidi Vidi village, and to a building called "The Plantation". This is right on the end of the "gut", or sound in from the sea. This village was and is a fishing village, so there were fishing boats present in the gut. But it has become a gentrified place, so one of the buildings is a micro-brewery. However, back to the Plantation. This is a two-story artists' studio area, wherein artists can apply for space to do their craft, and are also taught business practices. We spent time with each of several people, from a print-maker to a potter to a fabric artist. And the day outside was just as it should have been: foggy and windy.


We then went to the Emma Butler Gallery, in town. She handles many artists, including David Blackwood, and she remembered fondly our friends Barry and Nancy, who had bought from her some hears ago. Dinner that night was at "Aqua", and was universally wonderful for all six of us.

Friday began early with a ride up to the top of Signal Hill. It was a sunny, clear day, but windy. I thought I would be blown off my feet, literally, the wind was so strong. We walked around, got blown and cold, and watched a whale spout several times off in the ocean. Already it was a good day.

But after that we went to see the Veiled Virgin, a statue at the Presentation Convent next to the Basilica. The picture doesn't do it justice.


And the Convent was across the street from "The Rooms", Newfoundland's recently-built main art gallery, museum, and archives building. What a magnificent structure, and building. We could have easily spent the whole day, but did manage to spend about four hours at the place, including lunch.

Then off to the gallery of John McDonald, a young and coming artist who was quite good at sharing his techniques and his interests with us. He shares a space with Philipa Jones, who is a print-maker. And this was also quite fun. We get the impression that this city has a vibrant arts community, large enough to have energy, and small enough that they know each other and share a lot. Quite impressive. The picture is of John, with Kevin on the right.


This was a busy day. After John's studio, we went to another gallery (Leyton Gallery), then to the Crow's Nest, which is an old officer's club now open to all, but still in the style of a WW2 club. A beer was had.

Supper at Bistro Sophia, again delicious (particularly their desserts), and then to Kevin's house for a few hours with his friends Christina Smith (a fiddler) and her partner Chris Brooks (a storyteller and CBC documentary producer). It was good, albeit too short for my liking. To bed later than usual.

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Location:St. John's

A Time in France

Our last full day was spent, after a quiet overnight sailing, in the town of St. Pierre. The islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon are just twenty kilometres off the coast of Newfoundland, and are part of France.
(It turns out that this has an importance in recent, as well as more distant, history. France's vast North American holdings were gradually whittled away by their conflicts with the Brits, and this is all that remains. And in the thirties, during American prohibition, these islands were the only place in North America where it was legal to to sell and trade alcohol. So it became the place where Canadian liquor was taken to be shipped illegally to the U.S.)
A pretty little town of six thousand, perched on rock. Quaint in many ways, narrow streets and painted houses. High unemployment now that the fisheries have almost disappeared. But still doing okay thanks to the central French government. Sixty percent of the jobs here are government jobs. Income tax is pegged at ten percent. Social services are good, as they are in France itself. Education is free, up to and including university or college, although students need to go to France for post-secondary education. And the state will even cover some of the cost of transportation for the students.
We had a lovely time there. My only regret is that I missed the store which was selling red berets. Paul Dean, the geologist, got one and it looked wonderful.
Back on the ship for an early departure, since we had a long way to go. That evening, after supper, was the talent night (this place really was a lot like a summer camp!), and Darlene was performing a song with another women, Martha.




The night went well, and we were all tired when we went to bed in a rocky ship on a windy ocean. Tomorrow as back to St. John's.
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Location:St. Pierre et Miquelon

The South Shore

The last three days we have been traveling the South Shore of the Island. We had quite heavy seas coming around the south-west corner of the island around Port-aux-Basques. But it got a bit better once we were on the south shore. Winds here are mostly from the south, so are on-shore. We were glad to get to Garia Bay, more sheltered from the ocean, and quite beautiful to boot.
There was a venture planned on-shore. But the weather was cool, grey and raining. So we decided to spend the day on the ship. Turns out that we had forgotten about the maxim for Maritime weather: if you don't like it, wait an hour. After the Zodiacs had gone ashore, the weather turned very nice, sunny and warm.








Well, you can't win them all, and we had a lovely lazy day reading and sleeping. The evening was spent in a singalong. Darlene was up late, and got a bit of a reputation as a singer.
Next day, we moved a bit further along to an area of the coast dotted with fjords. One of the beauties of a smaller ship is that it can negotiate its way into these relatively narrow bays, and our group took advantage of this. We went into White Bear Bay (actually a fjord), "parked" the ship, and took the zodiacs out for a cruise further up the fjord. Turns out that this area had been a small community before resettlement, but is now used for "camps" or summer homes. People fishing and hunting moose (we saw one boat go by with a large dead moose in it). People came out from their cabins to take pictures of us: they had never seen so many people at once in their bay.
But we moved on to Ramea, a town on an island off the coast. Interesting that this town has developed wind power a bit, as an experimental project from Nfld. Power. They were a fishing town, until 1993 when the plant closed down. Their population has dropped by two-thirds. Their school, which is modern and has all the good facilities, has only forty students through all the grades.
In spite of this, they have a great spirit. They put on a spread for us, and challenged us to a friendly soccer game (we lost).
We bought a locally-made quilt, but first had to get money from the local ATM.




Our next stop was to be in Francois (pronounced by their residents as france-way). On the way there, we went into another fjord, at Bay La Hume. The rocks there were spectacular. But we were told by our resident geologist that they were only young— just 3.4 million years old!




After that it was on to Francois. This is a town of about 100 souls which refused to be relocated, back in the 60's. Its residents continue to fish and live, in spite of the fact that there is no road to it, and all supplies come by boat on an occasional basis. There are no cars, only four-wheel ATVs, which run on boardwalks or sidewalks. Geographically, or perhaps geologically, it is situated in an old volcano, as you can see from the photos. But it is beautiful, in a frankly stark way.








After a long walk from the town up to the lookout and back, we returned to ship for supper, then went back into town for what they call a "kitchen party", but is actually in a hall, with music and dancing. The sky was totally clear and still when we returned for the night to the ship in our Zodiacs, and the stars were, again, amazing.
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Location:Francois

A day of sadness

We had a sad day. Two reasons really: we visited the site of a town which had been re-located forcefully in the 1960's; and we had the death of one of our co-passengers. Both very difficult situations.
Emotionally, the easier part for us was our visit to Brake's Cove, an outport of maybe 200, which had been "resettled" under Smallwood's government in the 60's.




The government had decided they couldn't afford to provide services to all the small outports of Newfoundland, so decided that many would be resettled into some of the larger ones. So Brake's Cove, which had been a home for many families for a century and more, ceased to exist. Many homes were left intact, although some were put on boats and moved to "town". The land remained in the families, and some of those families continue to use the land for summer cottages. But nobody lives there permanently any more. It is very sad for those people, even yet. Joan, the wife of Tony Dixon(who is the Mayor of Cox's Cove), gets tearful when talking about the resettlement.
And we visited, with the help of some of the displaced citizens, this place of memories; went to the cemetery, walked the beach, saw the cottages, and generally explored.
Until the second sad event happened. Michael, a sixty year old man with Huntington's Disease, had bravely been part of our group, clambering down the ladders to the Zodiacs, walking the trails with us, and doing what he had wanted with little assistance. Today, however, was his day to die. He was eating a marshmallow cooked over a beach fire, when he likely choked and seized, and then collapsed. Many of us worked on him for over an hour, got him out by boat and ambulance to Cornerbrook, but failed to bring him back. It was terrible trauma for the staff who worked on him, and for the other passengers who were present. And of course for his wife Colleen. It reminded us all of the importance of living in the moment. Michael had always wanted to go the Newfoundland, and he had done it. It was the best day in terms of weather we have had so far. So in those senses he did well. But, well, you know.... Brake's Cove had another casualty.
Some of the day's program was cancelled out of respect. We still had a song and dance in the town of Cox's Cove, along with a ceremony that granted me (among other people) citizenship in Newfoundland (the "ceremony" included a challenge about their language; dancing a jig; a shot of Screech drunk quickly; and kissing a codfish!). This community was great, helping us to get through a hard day with grace and humour. We treated them to a tour of the ship, and they were out in force to wave us good-bye from the wharf, as we sailed off.








The evening on the ship was the showing of the NFB film "Hard Place" based on the book by Michael Crummey. A moving exploration of life in the outports, based on his life and that of his parents and grandparents in the old days, by an author I will read more from.
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Location:Cox's Cove

Gros Morne

I had been looking forward to this day for some time. The pictures of the park are amazing, awe-inspiring. And I wanted what those pictures showed. But the day was grey and rainy, so it wasn't to be, not like that at least.

We had steamed through the night, so by the time we were at breakfast, we were into the fiords of the park. We entered into the main one, then took a turn to the right (the south), into a smaller area. We were going to Rocky Point, a small town known for its cultural activities. This was a "dry landing", which means that we were ferried into a dock, not a beach, so didn't get our feet wet.



We were met at the dock by a group of local people, giving out information, pins, and candy kisses. They were wonderful: friendly, open, and accepting of our quirks as we came in. And they had a little friendly dog which helped us to feel at home.

After getting our boxed lunches, we were bussed to the Information Centre, and then from there began our hikes. Darlene had chosen to go onto the Tablelands (an area of the Park which had begun life as the bottom of the ancient Atlantic Ocean, so was ancient rock), and I had chosen to walk to the Lookout, an upward hike of about 500 metres over a kilometre and a half.

It's hard to say who got the better deal. I got less rain, but was wet from the sweat of walking up this steep incline. Plus I got beautiful views from the top of the walk. Darlene got more rain, but an easier walk overall, and had the advantage of a geologist to explain the old rocks they were walking on.



But we were both glad to get back to dry and warm conditions. When we met up back in the town, we were excited to know that there was actually wireless internet at the local cafe. A hasty consultation, and we managed a quick trip back to the ship for our computers, and we had a pleasant hour receiving emIl for the first time in most of a week. It was slow enough that we couldn't, for instance, post these blogs. But it allowed us to know a bit about what was going on in our outside world.

After a very pleasant visit, we hosted on board some of the staff of the town for supper, then we went in to town for a night of music and dance at their historic theatre hall. It was wonderful, tiring, and a fitting end to a good day.



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Location:Gros Morne National Park

Red Bay and L'Anse Amour

This was out day on the Labrador. We visited two communities: Red Bay and L'Anse Lamour.
The first of these was an area first settled by the early natives about 7,000 years ago; these were the ancestors of the Innu of today. Then came the group which would become the Inuit, out of the North. And the two groups lived an uneasy truce for many centuries until the 1500's, when the Basques began to arrive in search of whales.
The whale hunt was seasonal (nobody stayed over the winter except if there was a freak early winter storm). They set up their camps on Saddle Island, and proceeded to hunt, kill, and process the whales for their oil. Primarily, it was the Right Whale and the Blue Whale which were hunted, and it is estimated they killed tens of thousands during the fifty years or so they were at it. The whales would be pulled by the shore, then their blubber stripped and put in large copper casks which had been transported from the old country. Much of the whale was discarded as not needed or wanted, but the oil was valuable, serving most of Europe in its day. The industry was so valuable that the were insurance policies which covered it, and it was mentioned in wills. This was fortunate for archeologists, who used these documents to find the settlement and some of the artifacts. There is a sunken ship just off the coast of the island which has been well-preserved over time.
Some pictures were taken.








As you can see, the day was cloudy and a bit cold, appropriate for Labrador, I guess. So we decided to not go on the afternoon part of the program, which was at L'Anse Lamour, known for its lighthouse (the tallest in Canada and for some strange reason built out of stone but covered in wooden shingles which need to be painted every few years); and a large native burial ground from the early natives.
The evening was an on-board music night, with Daniel Payne talking about the types of music in old Newfoundland, and demonstrating each with his own playing.
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Location:Red Bay

Viking Exploration

This was our first time taking the zodiacs to shore. The day was foggy and rainy. Wind was about 15 knots, so there were fair waves. We were advised to wear rain gear, and a good thing that turned out to be. Temperature was cool— probably about eleven degrees.

By the time we got all organized, it was mid-morning. There is a door at he side of the ship which opens to stairs, and we descend these to the zodiacs. We were well-instructed, but it was still scary getting onto this small, bobbing rubber craft, with the waves splashing over the side, and the wind blowing hard enough that I almost lost my hat (even though it was strapped on). The trip to shore was only about half a kilometre, but that was more than enough for me.

Our first stop was to Norstead, a reconstruction of a Viking settlement sponsored by the local Tourist Association and Chamber of Commerce. It had closed for the season, but they re-opened it just for us. And I thought it was terrific. They have a Viking boat, built from models found archeologically. It is huge in one way, but seems small to go across the Atlantic. It would hold about thirty people, who would work and sleep in the boat for the three to four weeks required to go from Greenland to Newfoundland.




There was a long house, which would have housed about forty people (perhaps including five or six women). And they were able to demonstrate weaving, cooking, as well as blacksmithing (they got iron from the local bog and smelted it down). Food was grown (there were chickens and pigs, turnips and cabbage), hunted or fished. But the Norse were a trading peoples, so they had spices, including cumin. However, the interior of the building was quite smoky.

It is understood that women lived on average to their mid-thirties only. They would marry at thirteen, have children by fifteen, and be dead before forty. The men didn't live a lot longer, but at least were outside, so didn't have the thick smoke the women were subjected to.




The weather was turning bad, so we foreshortened the visit, and moved on to the National Park of L'Anse aux Meadows. The interpretive centre had some artifacts found at the site, but the main part was going through the excavated areas and the re-constructed buildings. And we were glad to be inside, since it was now raining, and windy.

The main building we saw inside of was again a long house, with a central kitchen and sleeping area, the chief's quarters on one end, and the forge on the other end. They had a sword and shield there, felt to be in the style and size of the Viking ones. Those guys were strong! It took a bit of heft to carry both of them.

But we had to get back to the ship, since the weather was turning ugly. Getting back across on the zodiacs was not fun, and we got quite wet on the outside. But we all made it back safely, and were glad to be warm and dry.

in the evening, we watched the interpretive film from the Park Service about the settlement. And again went to bed early. During the afternoon, we had moved to Red Bay for our next day's adventure.

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Location:L'Anse aux Meadows

Birthday Wanderings

The last two days have been busy. And full.
Monday was another day in St. John's. The day was grey and foggy-to-misty. A long breakfast, again, and then we walked up to Lemarchant Road, where I had lived when I was a resident all those years ago. And then a windy way back to our B & B. Mary, bless her heart, had offered to drive us to the ship, so we were glad to just rest at the house until our time. On the way back from our walk, we had passed through some very nice and prosperous neighbourhoods as well as some which had the look and feel of public housing. And we had stopped for a brief lunch at the "Hungry Heart" cafe, which is being used to train people with mental health concerns (we were waited on by a man who I would guess is schizo-affective, or at least autistic).
The house, our B & B, was also busy. They had a plumber coming, a toilet being replaced, a furnace being cleaned, and a myriad of phone calls coming in: lively place! When our time came to leave, Mary piled us all into her car and drove us down the hill to the harbour, and we found our ship without too much trouble.




Interestingly, they do a cursory security check on entering the ship, and also take away your passport. We settled into our cabin, unpacked, and were immediately overcome with tiredness. But there were introductions to be made, and dinner to be had, and music after that. It was going to be difficult to keep up with it all!
I went to bed early and slept well with the ship rocking beneath me.
Today was our first official visit, as well as my birthday. So I spent my birthday, turning sixty-five, at Joe Batt's Arm, Tilting, and Fogo. And what a day it was. The ship had met with strong headwinds overnight, so was a few hours late getting in. We had an introductory set of speeches to the community of Fogo Island, which is an area of less than 300 km squared, with a population of about 2400 souls, made up of four or five communities. They met the cod moratorium by organizing a fishing cooperative; met declining school attendance by getting rid of denominational schools and having the first unified public board in the province; refused resettlement by setting up a regional government: in short, a pretty progressive place. And they now have something called the Shorefast Foundation, which is bringing social capitalism to the island in a way which sounds very impressive.




We visited three separate communities on the island, had a look at a cod stage, where they still salt cod. The fishery is seeming to slowly recover, but the price paid for cod is not worth it, they say. They get sixty cents per pound for fish that the stores sell for six dollars a pound. And the work is hard. That's why there are no young fishermen, just aging ones; and the number of flakes had dropped to very few.
It's hard to say what will replace the cod fishery as income, if anything. Right now, tourism seems to be helping. There is a thriving artist community on Fogo Island, and they have been able to capitalize on that. But who knows how long that will last.
The land is amazing, though. Rocks, of course, and few trees here, but lots of low growth and berries.




Some gardening is present. We saw some birds, and there are caribou on the island, as well as coyotes (no moose). There is a beauty in the bleakness that is hard to get on film, but you feel. And a permanence that permeates the landscape. Even the ground we walked on, along well-worn paths, would sink a bit, and then rebound after our step was lifted.
Then we stopped in Tilting for a "snack" which turned out to be chowder, several preparations of fish, vegetables, desserts—all done by the local community which was not likely much bigger in population than we were in number. And it was good.
A return to the ship, and a farewell from the town who came down to meet us. A very pleasant day overall.




But the day wasn't done. After dinner, there was a birthday cake for me in the dining room, complete with music and many invitations to dance. All very fine as well. Thanks to my wife for organizing this.




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Location:Between Fogo and L'Anse aux Meadows

Our Day in St. John's

Today was our day alone in the city, before we board the ship for the circumnavigation. We slept in, and got up just when breakfast was ready. And what a sumptuous breakfast: French toast, fruit, yogurt, juice, coffee...yum! And our host, Mary, came and regaled us with stories of the town and such. It was a real treat. And of course took longer than usual, as it should.

So we finally hit the street about ten in the morning, heading downhill towards the harbour. Down Prescott Street, along Duckworth, and then along Water Street.

There have been a lot of changes since I was here last. Going to Sobeys last night pretty well encapsulated all that had changed. When I was here 38 years ago, you couldn't find a head of lettuce anywhere on the island. Milk was scarce (there are few if any dairy cows on the island). Now they have all the dairy you could ask for, and several types of lettuce, along with couscous, lentils, and many exotic foods. And the wine store had a better selection than ours in Dundas. That's what happens when you go away for almost four decades!

So the downtown had also changed. There are now condos, both ones built inside old buildings, and new buildings as well. There are stores of many kinds along Duckworth, and along Water Street. The City has built parks and parkettes in many places, and has had the good sense to keep the old buildings where possible. And of course there are the houses.


Houses of many colours, and many vintages, along steeply-sloped streets. Most are clapboard, with some in stone. And the stores are the same.



And the murals along public spaces.



We did a lot of walking. Stopped in a pub called "the Ship", which is the home pub for a group we like called "the Once". A beer therre, then some more walking, and a lovely seafood dinner at "Olivers". On our way out, we noticed again that the moon was nicely placed over the harbour. Just behind Signal Hill.



Now up Prescott Street (and I do mean up), and back to Cantwell House. A very pleasant day. Tomorrow we get on the ship.

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Location:St. John's, NFLD

The Road to Newfoundland

So soon after the previous trip, we are now on our way to Canada's second-newest province, Newfoundland. It's been busy, getting home only four days ago, doing laundry, packing. And Darlene had her Retirement Party two days ago. So this trip will begin with a rest.

After a neighbourly drive to the train station, we got to Toronto and then to the Billy Bishop Airport on the Island. Porter flies to St. John's, but stops in Ottawa and Halifax to refuel. But their flights are terrific, lots of room, good meals (with complimentary beer or wine if we wish), and friendly staff. We will get to the Island in the late afternoon, check into our B & B, and settle into Newfoundland life for the next two weeks.



(Now the next day....)Flight down was uneventful, and after a cab ride to the Cantwell House, where we met Mary, and her husband Louie (whi told me in great detail of his knee operation done a month ago, and was having still some obvious problems getting around), and were shown to our spacious and quite nice room. One of the things we have in this house is a third-floor deck which looks out over the harbour, and we happened to be there just as the moon was rising over the water.



We decided to go to the local Sobeys for a take-out supper, bought a bottle of wine, and had supper on the deck under the moon. It was cool, both in temperature and ambience.

After the wear and tear of travel, it was an early bedtime for us both.

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Location:St. John's

Day 19, Train Time

Jane and Steve have been very kind to me. Steve had a speech to do this morning, so was involved with that. But Jane drove me down to the train station, still on Barrington Street. Interesting that there was a cruise ship docked quite near to the station: perhaps toursim will revive old Halifax, and lead to to revival as well of this train that I am riding.



There is a kind of sadness on the train. The number of trips for this line has been cut to three times a week, from five. One quarter of the staff have received lay-off notices and are not expecting to be hired back on. And yet it is beautiful along here. We left the city along the Bedford Basin, through wonderful lake country (water levels are quite high, so there were some unexpected lakes present, as well as some roads under water.

The Shubenachadie River is not normally very large, but today resembled the Mississippi. I'm told that the water has actually gone down a bit around Truro.



As we wound our way through the lakes and swollen rivers, and flooded fields, of this part of Nova Scotia, we eventually got to the marshes around the Bay of Fundy. Many of the streams that ran through here showed the effects of the tides (it appeared to be low tide when we went through, but the muddy banks of the creeks showed the striations of tidal movement).

And there were windmills at the border with New Brunswick—probably ten or more of them.


Than to Amherst, then Sackville, and finally Moncton. I got out and took some ceremonial pictures to act as a completion of the cycle begun seventeen days ago.



And from there, we came to the Eastern Shore of New Brunswick, traveling through Kouchibouguac, then across the Miramichi (which is a larger town than I had thought), and then into the seemingly endless expanses of trees, bogs, lakes, swamps: all of it reminiscent of Northern Ontario.

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Location:Moncton

Time in Halifax

The morning after the night before was a bit subdued: we four had drunk a bottle of bubbly, another bottle of red and a half-litre as well during dinner. So breakfat was a subdued affair, aside from Bruce being the anxious mother hen herding us all towards the car. So we actually left St. Peters about 9:00.

A short detour to go into Antigonish in search of a coffee shop, then back on the road to Truro, where we stopped briefly for ice cream. The rain which threatened in Cape Breton had by now turned into sporadic downpours, with bright periods between them. No sun, but hints of brightness.

We had decided to stop at the airport so Barry could rent a car for the remainder of his and Nancy's time in Nova Scotia, then the remaining three of us went on to drop me off at Steve and Jane's. A fond farewell to Barry, as he left in search of the rental car.

As we approached the main part of Halifax, the fog began, and thickened to a somewhat gruel-like consistency. Going over the MacDonald bridge was an exercise in faith, since we could not see the sides or top of the bridge, and the water below was invisible.

We found our way easily to Fuller Terrace, and, as promised, Steve was ther to meet me. Another farewell to Nancy and Bruce, and the trip was done.

But Steve and I had some lovely time together, talking about the times when we lived as neighbours (now over thirty-five years ago). We walked the 'hood, which is now pretty trendy, stopped for a coffee at the local roaster/café; stopped at a trendy restaurant on Agricola Street; an locally-sourced food store (with fresh local peanuts!); a fancy bakery. But also a former school turned into a community centre. Gus' Grill and the local butcher were still there. It was a treat to see the area being fixed up and reclaimed.



In the evening we went over to a house on the street which was that of friends and neighbours. They were welcoming to me, and we had a great meal and lots of good conversation.



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Location:Halifax

Final Bike Time

Appropriate for what was to be our final day together, this morning we woke to heavy fog from the sea, although the temperature was fairly warm. Should we bike? We had done most of what we wanted, but there was a nice ride along the Mira River which we were tempted by.

Breakfast allowed us to finish off our eggs, blueberries, and some bread (it's a tough life). And Nancy decided that she would not bike, but would visit the downtown of metropolitan Louisbourg. But Barry and I were game, so we set out from the cabin, going up the highway in the fog with our warning lights on and our visibility jackets flapping in the breeze. We turned off this road at Albert Bridge, heading towards Marion Bridge.

That ride was fairly flat, along the widened river, with cottages on the river side, and several boats to boot. An occasional hill to break it up, and we were away.

Marion Bridge, as the song suggests, is quite pretty, albeit smaller than I would have thought (the bridge itself is new and large enough—it's the town I mean).


And the road changes here to a smaller road, still paved, as it headed down to Victoria Bridge. Lots of trees, not many people, and the occasional view of the Mira River.


We knew the paved road ran out at Victoria Bridge, so we had arranged to meet Bruce and Nancy there. And so we did. A final lunch together on an old broken-down wharf, and we were off to our evening's location at St. Peters.

We biked 56 km.

There was a bit of shopping to do, and I had wanted to visit the St. Peters Canal, which is an historic site. Barry joined me and we explored this 800-metre canal with its unique tidal locks (ask me about them). Very interesting: we talked with a young woman who worked there, and she told us they handle over a thousand boats in the season.

Tonight, we are off to the Bras d'Or Inn for a resplendent dinner, then return to Halifax tomorrow.


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Location:St. Peters

Day 16, Louisbourg

Today it rained. Being a fair-weather cyclist, we felt that the best plan was to use the day to visit the Fortress, only about a mile away. And this is what we did.

I guess it was good to see the Fortress in gloomy weather: that's what the people in the eighteenth century dealt with a lot of the time. But it was not as pleasant as it might have been. Fortunately, a lot of the exhibits are indoors. The shop was doing a brisk business in raincoats.


I was reminded of many things in the visit: the disparity in wealth between the poorer (soldiers, for instance), and the richer (the governor and the comptroller); the pleasure of having good plumbing and electricity; the relatively easy life we all lead nowadays.

The miserable day meant that they did not do the planned cannon firing or musket firings. But we got some sense of the life of the soldiers anyways.

Very positive impressions of the gardens, the animals, the bakery and the kitchens with the work they accomplished. Fortress Louisbourg was the fourth major port in North America at the time, and was at the junction of routes to the West Indies, Europe, and interior North America. So they had spices from the Caribbean (cinnamon, garlic, pepper, nutmeg) as well as coffee beans (which they roasted on site), chocolate, sugar (in cones). The richer houses had good furniture, upholstered chairs, nice beds, good fabrics including curtains.


The population of the area was about 6000 in the winter, and double to triple that in the summer. Some people would go back and forth, daunting when you consider with was a six-week voyage!

After a busy morning looking around some of the major buildings, we stopped for lunch in the Hôtel de la Marine, which would have been a tavern in those days. They served us what they would have had then: pea soup or vegetable soup, lightly breaded haddock with turnip and carrots, and hot rum. It was great, and all eaten with a spoon (the only implement that would have been available then). We had pretty well been worn out by then (undoubtedly helped by the rum), so returned to our cabin for an afternoon snooze and a read before supper.

It was a lazy day, but one not without its charms. No cycling was done.


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Location:Louisbourg

Day 15, Bras d'Or lake

Today we peddled almost seventy km. We had wanted to peddle the east side of the lake, from St. Peters towards Sydney Forks. Being in Louisbourg, we then drove up to the Mira River and along it to Marion Bridge, and overland towards St. Peters.
But I have forgotten the early morning bit of drama. We had had our breakfast, but Bruce decided to go and check out where the laundromat was (where we were staying had laundry machines, but charged $7.25 per load!). He found it okay, attached to Peck's Housekeeping Cottages. And he found they had a similar cottage to the one we had, for forty dollars less per night. So Bruce and I went down and talked with the lady of Midtown, and asked for some money back since I had already paid for two nights. She reluctantly agreed, and we quickly packed up and moved the two hundred yards down the street. Phew! A nice place, and the savings to pay for a meal out.
Our drive up the Mira was very pleasant, and quite beautiful. Marion Bridge was as good as the song suggests, from what we could see on the way by. After that, the trip went across country, and was not as interesting.
So we got on our bikes, went the rest of the way to Highway 4, then turned north towards Sydney. It was a hilly and windy ride, but was a beautiful scenic way to go. Some photos:








After a few hours, we stopped for a lunch at Ben Eoin (not as pretty as its name), and then tackled a few more hills before calling it a day.
Now we're back in Louisbourg. We had a wonderful halibut steak supper, cooked in our cottage by Bruce. Nancy did some laundry, so we're good for the rest of the trip. Tomorrow looks like a rainy day, so we'll probably visit the Fortress for much of the day.

Distance about seventy km.
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Location:Louisbourg

The Miners' Museum

I thought that the Miners' Museum was significant enough to get its own blog entry. It was really quite moving, and a poignant reminder of the past and its difficulties.

Our guide was named Abbie Michalik. He us now almost eighty, and as I mentioned in the previous post, was born into a family which eventually had ten children. The house they lived in was built with wood gathered from the mining company, from old de-commissioned outhouses. There was no foundation or basement, so the wind went right underneath the house. Windows were single-paned, and leaked. The roof also leaked. The walls were not insulated. Children slept in two beds, one for the girls, and one for the boys. Abbie said that in the winter, they couldn't afford blankets, so they just piled their coats on top of the beds. And in the morning, there might be snow on top of the coats. To help them keep warm, his mother would heat bricks in the stove, and send them upstairs with a brick for their feet to be warm.

Abbie went into the mines at an early age, getting out of school after Grade 10. He talked about going down into the dark mine in an open cart, tied with a rope to pull it back out of the mine, and also to slow it down. But the company did not check the ropes often, and would only replace it after it actually broke. One day, the rope broke on the way down into the mine. His dad told him to jump, which he did, and he was safe. His cousin, who was also in the cart, jumped, but went under the wheels of the cart and was killed.

The mine face he went to was about eight miles out under the sea. It took about ninety minutes to get there (time they were not paid for). Once they got there, the job of the young boys was to stay at one of the section doors to make sure they stayed closed, so the air would circulate properly. There were of course rats down there, but his father told him not to kill the rats, since they acted often as early warnings if there were a methane gas build-up (if the rats ran ahead of you, you were safe; if they ran away, you should too). And the rats cleaned up after your meal and after the washroom breaks.

As he got older, Abbie was able to work on getting the coal into the carts. Each cart held over a ton of coal, and you made all of seventy cents for it, if it made it to the surface. If it dumped, you made nothing. And if your tag fell off the cart (or someone replaced it with their's) you didn't get paid.
During Abbie's time in the mine, he survived an explosion, a cave-in, an accident with the cart. He lost relatives and friends to accidents. And he witnessed many changes in the ownership and management of the mines. He was unionized through the United Mine Workers, an American union. He had seen his father who went through the incredible struggles of the 1910's and 1920's, when they were trying to unionize.

The mine that we went into was not big. It began at the Museum at over six feet high, but by the time we were in the main walkways, it was down to about four and one-half feet. It was cool, and damp with water on the ground. And it was dark (he turned the light out briefly to impress us). And at one place, we stopped and sat down around a garden under lights. Abbie talked about one German miner who asked the bosses for permission to start a garden in the mine. The company said okay, but he had to provide the boards, and the soil (his fellow miners helped bring it in). He succeeded in growing veggies in the dark of the mine, with the lights as we saw.

He was proud of the work he had done. He continues to work at the Museum because he feels it is important to pass on these lessons, and to encourage young people to stay in school. He remembers the times he has lived through, and is grateful for what he now has.

As mentioned, it was a truly impressive visit.
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Location:Louisbourg

Day 14, Over East

No pictures today: we just biked and visited the Miner's Museum. I never got my camera out.
After a brief stop in Baddeck for a coffee, we piled into the car, and went back to Iona for the start of the day. And the weather again was terrific, with two small clouds in a blue sky, and with winds being light. And the road was pretty good, only a few moderate hills and largely straight. So we made good time.
At least until lunch, which we had at a little picnic spot near the town of Barachois.
Nancy decided that she was too tired to bike that afternoon, and we packed her bike onto the car. Barry an I took off down a good-sized hill, thinking this was going to be a good ride to our meeting place. But then the other part of the hill was there: a two km climb at a good incline wore us out. And once at the top, there was a rock quarry, with a steady stream of trucks coming and going. Fortunately, we were only going a short distance, about eleven km.
Overall, about 46 km.
But the highlight was a visit to the Miner's Museum in Glace Bay. It has developed quite a bit since we were last there—and it is still owned and operated by the miners themselves.
We were led on a tour of an actual "incline" mine by a man who had mined for over forty years, and had led these tours for the past nineteen years. He was full of stories about the hard work in the fifties (he began working at fourteen), and his life living in dire poverty at home. His house was without a foundation, built from recycled wood from old outhouses, no insulation, windows and roof that leaked, and one source of heat, in the kitchen. And ten children in the family. It was a moving story of hardship and struggle. Speaking of struggle, there was a movie outlining the struggle to unionize against the coal barons, culminating in the death of a miner at the hands of the police, on June 11, 1925. To this day miners will not work on that day. They finally got their union (even though it did not fully support their efforts), and after 25 years, their wages rose to pre-WW1 levels again! And we think we have it hard.
We didn't bike after that. Supper was out at a restaurant. I had my one lobster dinner, and enjoyed.
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Location:Louisbourg

Day 13, to Iona

We had discovered yesterday that Baddeck was in fact a fairly upscale town, and had three (!) coffee shops. So today we had to go into town and try them out. Had our caffeine at "Bean There", then returned to the cabin, got ready and set off.
One of the nice things about the cabin we have rented is that it is up a mountain, so the first kilometer or so was all downhill (I got up to 54 kph). And then we turned onto the Trans-Canada. But here it is not too busy, and there is a good paved shoulder. So we did fine (the noise of the cars and truck was a nuisance, though).
Finally turned off that road and headed towards the ferry crossing at Little Narrows. This is a cable ferry, about two hundred metres distance travelled. And the woman taking the ticket had a real Cape Breton lilt....




Then we were off onto Highway 223, which had us a bit spooked, since this was the only place in the proscribed itinerary that was described a being hilly. And we had already done some serious hills, so if this was even worse, we were, well, worried. But all for nought. There were biggish hills, but nothing worse than we had already successfully negotiated. And some of the scenery was definitely worth the trip.




Finally, we were in Iona. Bruce was there a bit before us, and motioned us into the Highland Village Museum. Since most if the museums and attractions we had tried to visit were closed now, it was a joy just to find one open. And the Museum itself was a real pleasure: a living history of the Scottish Gaels who came from the Highland of Scotland for a better life. They got this in Cape Breton, with fishing, farming, and forestry. Many of them lived quite well, and in particular, they owned their own land and were masters in their own houses. The immigration was from the mid-1700's to about 1840.




After this trip, we went and had a late lunch, looking over the water at a hill being mined for its lime or marble.




And then we were home. After a walk in the woods around the cottage, Bruce cooked us a wonderful meal of poached salmon with a white sauce. Yum.

Distance today probably 55km.
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Location:Washabuck Rd,Upper Washabuck,Canada